


demain j'arrête

by daisysusan



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve never had sex with anyone,” Scheifs says, and it’s so quiet and slurred that it takes Jake a few seconds to process the words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	demain j'arrête

**Author's Note:**

> For the TFLN Challenge, for a text-prompt that you'll find at the end.

It turns out that when it’s colder outside than fucking Mars, no one wants to leave the house no matter what, which is how Jake ended up sprawled across the couch with his feet in Bogo’s lap in the first place. It also explains how he’s had this much beer, since there’s nothing else to do.

“I’m never complaining about the weather in Michigan again,” Jake says. 

“You will, though,” Sheifs slurs from the armchair across the room. Bogo nods sagely, like he doesn’t bitch about the snow in upstate New York all the goddamn time. 

“It’s weather like this that makes you miss Atlanta,” Bogo says, poking the sole of Jake’s foot until he giggles. Scheifs shoots him a scandalized look, and Bogo rolls his eyes. “It’s not colder than Mars in Atlanta.” 

“Can’t we talk about something more interesting?” Scheifs says, and Jake sticks his tongue out. “It’s cold over here by myself and you keep reminding me.” 

“You know what’s cold?” Bogo starts, and Jake cuts him off.

“Don’t say it.”

“Please don’t,” Scheifs adds. 

Bogo glares at both of them, and makes to shove Jake off the couch. “What, it’s true. Am I not allowed to miss my fiancée?”

“Not if you’re going to tell us about your sex life ten times a day!” Jake says. He kicks at Bogo’s legs but Bogo catches his ankles before he makes contact. 

“I’ve never had sex with anyone,” Scheifs says, and it’s so quiet and slurred that it takes Jake a few seconds to process the words.

Then he falls off the couch and everything goes off the rails—Bogo kicks at him and Scheifs starts giggling uncontrollably and they end up in a giant pile on the floor swatting at each other, and then Bianca calls. 

Jake wakes up on the couch the next morning with a headache and vague a vague memory of Scheifs saying something important before Bogo tried to kick him in the head. Oh well, he thinks in a voice that feels like his mother’s, if it’s really important it’ll come back to him. 

It doesn’t, not for a long time. The weather gets a little warmer—not warm enough to be comfortable, but warm enough that Jake doesn’t fantasize about lighting buildings on fire to warm things up. Scheifs starts lighting it up on the ice, enough that people almost stop talking about them like the season is already over. The Olympics happen, and afterward Jake and Bogo forbid any mention of them in the house. 

And then Jake’s sitting at a red light with Scheifs in the front seat, and he says “God, I need to get laid,” and he remembers. 

Scheifs gives him a weird look but doesn’t say anything and suddenly the silence in the car isn’t comfortable anymore. 

“Do you want Timmy’s?” Jake says.

“Sure,” Scheifs answers. His voice sounds weird. 

They get Timmy’s, and don’t talk about it, and then they force Bogo to watch Toy Story 3 with them, while still not talking about it, and after long enough not talking about it, it doesn’t feel as present. Jake still thinks about it that night, the strange twist of Scheifs’ voice in the car and the fuzzy memory of his drunk confession. He falls asleep wondering about what Scheifs has done, and wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream where he made out with someone who’d never been kissed before. 

Mostly, Jake is too busy with the whole professional hockey thing to be preoccupied with just how much sexual experience Scheifs has. It’s just that with a tiny bit of their tiny bit of spare time, Scheifs tends to do things like fall asleep completely on top of him during some godawful movie that Bogo suggested. And then Scheifs has his head tucked up under Jake’s chin and he’s snoring quietly and he’s just a little too heavy and a little too warm and—Jake wonders, is all. 

Not enough to wake Scheifs up to ask him, cause he’s a pissy motherfucker when he wakes up too early from his naps, but enough to make him squirm. 

All in all, he probably could have blurted the question out at a better time, but once the words are said there’s no taking them back. At least he rolled the window up after he yelled their orders into the weird microphone thing.

“What the hell?” Scheifs says, looking understandably thrown. 

“Uh,” Jake says. “I didn’t mean to—”

Scheifs doesn’t look convinced. “You didn’t mean to? What, it just slipped out?”

“Well,” Jake says, biting back a smile. “Yeah, basically.” 

“Do you spend that much time thinking about what I _have_ done, since I haven’t had sex?”

“No?” Jake says, but he’s not even convincing himself. 

Scheifs rolls his eyes, and Jake pulls the car up to the window. The silence in the car is tense while he pays and they get their food, and then he pulls into an empty parking space because if they’re going to have a screaming match, it shouldn’t be while the car is moving.

“So,” Schefis says, and then he determinedly eats a french fry. It’s hilarious, and Jake can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up. 

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work,” Scheifs continues, but it’s tinged with fondness. 

“Sorry,” Jake chokes out. It doesn’t sound sincere. He doesn’t care.

Scheifs reaches across the console and shoves a fry into Jake’s mouth before he manages to close it and then they’re both laughing. Some fries get thrown—Scheifs impressively catches one in his mouth—but they settle down before any ketchup packets get squirted at anyone. 

“Are you going to tell me?” Jake asks, made brave with laughter and the shine in Scheifs’ eyes when he smiles. 

“I guess.” Scheifs shrugs, and it looks forced. But he smiles, and keeps talking. “I’ve made out with a few people. That’s about it.” He reddens just a little. “And I touched a girl’s boobs once.” 

Jake laughs aloud, raucous and and harsh in the quiet car. 

“Don’t be a tool,” Scheifs says, and he’s not meeting Jake’s eyes. His gaze is fixed on the floor of the car, his hand resting uselessly on his burger. 

“No, Scheifs,” Jake starts. “I wasn’t—I’m not making fun of you?” Scheifs looks like Gally the one time that someone made fun of his accent and Jake wants to punch himself. “It was just the way you said it, I promise.” 

There’s a lingering silence during which Jake doesn’t even move to eat, afraid that the noise would shatter something. 

“Do you—do you _want_ to have sex?” he asks, so quietly he barely hears his own voice. “Is there a reason you haven’t?”

Scheifs nods, but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he nods again. “I don’t really want to have sex with girls,” he says. 

“Oh,” Jake says, and then, “okay.” After a short silence during which Scheifs looks at him very strangely and his face is face red, Jake grins and adds, “Sex with guys is fun.” 

Scheifs drops his burger on the floor. 

Well, now he’s committed so he might as well go all the way. “Wanna try it sometime?”

“What the hell, Troubs?” Scheifs says after he finishes staring at Jake with his mouth hanging open. “Are you messing with me?”

“No?” Jake forces himself to look serious. “I just like sex. And I like you.” 

Eventually Scheifs might manage to close his mouth but it seems like it’s going to take a while. Jake bites his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Uh, like, when?” Scheifs says after what feels like a very long time even though the clock on the dashboard says it was less than a minute. 

“Whenever you want.” Jake shrugs. 

He’s not thinking much of anything as he says it—just that he wants Scheifs to look a little less terrified, that Scheifs isn’t that bad looking, that it’s been a while since he kissed anyone. He doesn’t expect anything to come of it, especially not right now, and then Scheifs kisses him. Just leans forward across the gear shift and kisses him hard and fast. 

Jake is taken aback for a moment, the pressure of Scheifs’ mouth against his sudden and jarring. But he offered this, and it’s not like he doesn’t want to do it. Scheifs is already pulling away by the time Jake gets his head in the game, and now he’s the one pitching forward and ignoring the way the gear shift digs into his stomach. There’s a surprising amount of bite to Scheifs’ kiss, like he’s got something to prove, maybe. 

Well, he probably does. Jake doesn’t let it slow him down; he licks into Scheifs’ mouth and doesn’t pull away until the need to breathe is overwhelming. Scheifs chases his mouth with a tiny noise and—christ, it’s been a long time since Jake kissed anyone. He’s never thought about kissing Scheifs, not really, but now that it’s happening it’s kind of great. Scheifs kisses exactly how Jake expected him to, somehow, determined but not reckless. It’s a terrible position for kissing, though, and Jake wants to scream a little bit. Scheifs’ hands are wandering, reaching for him but he’s too far away for as much touching as Jake wants to be doing. 

“We should—” Scheifs starts to say, and then he stops to kiss Jake again. 

“Yeah,” Jake says. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone else in the parking lot,” Scheifs says and, frankly, that’s enough for Jake.

Climbing into the backseat isn’t the easiest thing he’s ever done but it’s worth it when Scheifs crawls basically into his lap to keep kissing him and finally rubs against him. 

If Jake was a nicer person—if he wasn’t 19 and didn’t have a guy he’s kind of into scrabbling at his fly—if Scheifs was showing even the slightest bit of hesitation—maybe he would slow things down. Ask if Scheifs is sure. All that stuff you’re supposed to do. But Scheifs is the one pushing the issue and his hand is tentative but warm when he brushes it across Jake’s dick and just like, fuck it. They’re clearly doing this.

“Shit,” Jake hisses when Scheifs tightens his grip, and that’s about his last coherent thought until he’s groaning into Scheifs’ mouth and coming without warning all over his hand. 

“Gross, Troubs,” Scheifs says, wrinkling his nose. Jake shrugs, unrepentant.

“Want me to suck you off?” 

Scheifs shrugs, not quite casual. “If you want.”

Jake grins, all teeth. “I definitely want.” 

Organizing themselves is an adventure, but if Scheifs sits with his back against the door and Jake hunches over his thighs it’s not entirely unbearable. Jake’s done worse things to have a dick in his mouth anyway, and he doesn’t anticipate being here that long.

He’s right; it doesn’t take a lot of time or skill for Scheifs to be shaking and groaning and coming on Jake’s tongue. He seems a little dazed when Jake moves up to look at him, and from there it’s just too easy to kiss him, messy and with too much tongue and a mouth he knows tastes like come.

Scheifs makes a noise that could have been anything but comes out sounding like “mrmph,” and Jake laughs against his mouth. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jake asks when he pulls away.

“Not bad. My mouth tastes like jizz, though.”

Jake laughs. “Oops.”

Scheifs pushes at him weakly. “Buy me a milkshake to make it up to me.”

“I already gave you a blowjob!”

“Yeah,” Scheifs says, laughing, “and now my mouth tastes gross.”

Jake rolls his eyes but he’s a sucker at heart, so he does it anyway.

\--

(204): we just fucked in the mcds parking lot  
(1-204): wasnt he a virgin  
(204): yes we got celebratory milkshakes after


End file.
